


A Weekend at Stark Tower

by ephemeralstark



Series: Peter gets hurt/sick [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Appendicitis, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Minor Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Peter Parker is a Mess, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:47:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24293842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephemeralstark/pseuds/ephemeralstark
Summary: “May is gonna kill us.” Peter muttered.“She can’t, she didn’t explicitly say that you’re not allowed to have appendicitis.” Mr. Stark said. “Trust me, I memorised the list.”“She did say no slicing and I’m pretty sure surgery falls under slicing.” Peter said.“F*ck.”-May has a conference, Peter is staying at Stark Tower, and Dr. Cho just wanted a night off.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Peter gets hurt/sick [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1750486
Comments: 11
Kudos: 375





	A Weekend at Stark Tower

“How many times, Kid, don’t run in here!” Happy shouted after Peter as he raced through the garage towards the elevator where he would be able to travel up to the main floors and see Mr. Stark.

An overfilled backpack was hanging off his shoulder, he had packed so hastily that morning that there was a sock hanging out from the gap between the two zips.

“This isn’t running,” Peter called back, not slowing in the slightest, “this is excited walking.”

“Excited walking my a-” Peter heard Happy mutter as the elevator doors slid shut and it seamlessly started to move upwards.

_“Welcome Peter.”_ F.R.I.D.A.Y. said instantly.

“Hey F.R.I. how are you today?” Peter asked cheerfully.

_“I am well, thank you,”_ F.R.I.D.A.Y. said, as she always did - she had given up on telling Peter that she was an A.I. and couldn’t actually feel, _“how are you?”_

“I’m good!” Peter said, and the dam broke. “Actually, I’m going to be here all weekend because May is away for the weekend at a work conference, she wasn’t going to go at first but then she found out that the conference attendance could allow her to be in with a chance of being promoted. So, she was anxious to go after hearing that but worried about leaving me for the weekend.

“I told her I would be absolutely fine; I mean come on! I’m Spider-Man! She wouldn’t buy it though, hence why I’m here. She agreed to go to the conference so long as someone looked after me and Mr. Stark said he would, so I’m gonna be staying all weekend and its going to be great!”

_“I do recall Mr. Stark mentioning that a few times,”_ F.R.I.D.A.Y. said in an amused tone, or as amused as an A.I. could be, _“he has set up your room for you.”_

“I don’t have a room here, F.R.I.” Peter reminded her.

_“Yes, you do.”_ F.R.I.D.A.Y. responded instantly.

_Huh, weird, maybe I should let Mr. Stark know that F.R.I. is glitching,_ Peter thought to himself as the elevator doors opened and he stepped out into the cool, airy living area.

His gaze instantly fell on Mr. Stark who was on the phone, looking out the window over the city, by the sounds of it, the conversation was ending.

“-I know, yeah, I know, got it, yep, it’s all going to be fine.” Mr. Stark kept saying. “Yes, don’t worry, we’ll be _fine,_ don’t panic, I know, yes, I _know._ ”

Peter bit back a laugh at the one-sided conversation and walked over to Mr. Stark’s side.

“Ah- he’s actually just arrived, yeah, we’ll be fine, bye May!”

Mr. Stark hung up the call and sighed.

“Right, Kid, here’s the deal,” he said seriously, “I have been thoroughly threatened, so you aren’t allowed to get stabbed, shot, _sliced,_ wounded, bruised, burnt, mauled, maimed or any other form of hurt.”

“What if I make a cup of tea and it’s too hot and I scald my tongue?” Peter asked.

“Blow on it first.” Mr. Stark said seriously.

“May really drove the threat home, didn’t she?” Peter asked with a smirk,

“She did indeed, you’d think she’d just handed over her kid to me for the weekend.” Mr. Stark said acerbically.

“You know, she won’t actually need to find out if I get hurt, right?” Peter asked. “I can heal really fast, there won’t be any signs of injury by the time she gets home.”

“Kid, you’ve been here for like three minutes.” Mr. Stark said, raising an eyebrow. “We are _not_ already going to discuss how best to hide injuries that you’re not allowed to have from your Aunt.”

“Fine, fine,” Peter mumbled, “me and F.R.I. will just have to figure out how to hide them from you and May instead.”

“You’re such a little-”

“Nothing.” Another voice cut in quickly, before Peter saw Pepper enter the room with a file in one hand and a travel cup – of coffee, judging by the bitter smell Peter could pick up on – in the other. “We don’t swear at minors, Tony.”

“What if that minor is giving me grey hairs?” Mr. Stark asked, and if Peter didn’t know the man well, he would have believed that the question was serious.

“Oh, honey,” Pepper said with faux sympathy as she walked up to him and stroked his cheek gently, “you were going grey before you met Peter.”

“Ha, burn,” Peter couldn’t stop himself from muttering.

“Did you get the call from May that I patched through?” Pepper asked, ignoring her fiancé’s pout and Peter’s smirk.

“Yeah, yeah, I have been thoroughly warned that I have to be a mature adult for the next two and a half days.” Mr. Stark said, rolling his eyes.

“Speaking of being mature,” Pepper said, “I know you two are going to disappear into that workshop in the next few minutes so I’ve left a plate of sandwiches in the kitchen to take down with you, and F.R.I.D.A.Y. will be warning you when it’s dinner time.”

“Warn Smarn.” Mr. Stark said.

“And if I don’t see you within five minutes of that warning, all electricity in that room will be switched off.” Pepper threatened.

“Pep, what the hell?”

“You’re being mature, remember?”

“Yeah, mature,” Mr. Stark said with a nod, “I can do that. Come on, Kid, let’s grab those sandwiches and go change the world.”

Peter was already having a great time, he was working on some life changing technology – and doing a good job according to Mr. Stark – he’d been well fed, he was chatting about everything and nothing, and he’d noticed that Mr. Stark had put up a photograph of the two of them working that Pepper had taken a few weeks ago. All in all, he was happy.

That was until after dinner.

Dinner itself had been great, they’d ordered in Italian food from this fancy restaurant that Mr. Stark apparently _loved._ Pepper had told him that after they’d gotten engaged he’d ordered one of everything on their menu as a celebration, and Peter couldn’t deny that the food was good, even if he felt slightly guilty about how much it probably cost.

But then later as the sun began to set in the distance and the light in the room dimmed as they watched movies together on the sofa, Peter began to feel the ache.

It was an uncomfortable ache right in the centre of his abdomen. Maybe he had eaten too much at dinner. He didn’t often have much of a problem with overeating, his metabolism was fast and normally was able to compensate for however much he ate, tonight though, he was struggling.

“Kid, you good?” Mr. Stark asked, noticing that he had been wriggling about in his seat a little with the discomfort.

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” Peter lied, “just got a dead leg.”

“Walk it off, Kiddo.” Mr. Stark said with a laugh.

“I know that’s a joke, but it might help,” Peter said, as another feeling suddenly appeared, “I’ll be back in a moment.”

Saliva filled his mouth and he swallowed uncomfortably as he hastily made an escape from the room, putting on a fake limp to try and keep his dead leg story going. It didn’t matter really, because Mr. Stark’s attention had returned to the movie and Pepper had fallen asleep at some point.

_I’m gonna puke, I’m gonna puke, oh god don’t let me puke on the carpet,_ Peter’s thoughts churned as badly as his stomach as the door closed behind him, and he ran down the hall to the bathroom.

He instantly dropped to his knees by the toilet and emptied the contents of his stomach. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead and the back of his neck and he tried his best to stay quiet as he felt like he was vomiting his guts up.

“Shit.” He mumbled under his breath as he leaned back against the wall, chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried his best to catch his breath.

_“Would you like me to request assistance for you?”_ F.R.I.D.A.Y. asked.

“No,” Peter breathed out, closing his eyes as he tried to suppress the nausea, “I’m fine, thanks F.R.I.”

_“As you wish,”_ F.R.I.D.A.Y. said, _“let me know if you change your mind.”_

“’kay.” Peter mumbled, clutching his stomach as though that would ease the ache.

He sat there for about ten minutes until the nausea faded and the ache in his stomach settled. That was a relief, he didn’t want Mr. Stark to think that his favourite restaurant had given him food poisoning. That would have been a downer, although Peter had to admit that he was suspecting that was the case – so he was already dreading the next time Mr. Stark decided to order food from there.

He’d still eat it though; he wouldn’t want to offend his mentor.

Peter cleaned the bathroom, washed the sweat from his face and gargled some water before heading back to the room where he’d abandoned Mr. Stark and Pepper.

“Hey, Kid,” Mr. Stark said quietly, as to not wake Pepper, “thought you’d gotten lost for a moment there.”

“You wished more like.” Peter said jokingly as he threw himself back on the sofa, in his spot that had cooled.

The ache had returned already, slightly lower than before, and slightly sharper.

He sucked in a sharp breath as it took him by surprise. Oh, that _hurt._ Fixing himself in place, he faced himself forward towards the TV and refused to move himself even an inch, if he didn’t move then the pain couldn’t possibly get worse, could it?

Apparently, the answer was yes because Peter found that the pain was moving and getting sharper. It ended up on the lower, right side of his abdomen, and Peter _had_ to move. He pressed a hand into it, hoping that like any other injury, holding the affected area would help, but in this situation, it seemed to make things worse.

He instantly pulled his hand away, and the pain doubled once more.

It was like someone was stabbing him, or burning him, and Peter was reminded of May’s warnings that he wasn’t allowed to get injured. _Sorry, May,_ he thought.

He was going to have to tell someone, he was going to _have to,_ there was no way around the situation.

“Kid?” Mr. Stark asked. “You good?”

Peter hadn’t realised that the lights were on and the TV was off, apparently the movie had finished, and it was time for bed.

“Good.” Peter said, when he really should have said, ‘no, I need help’.

“Alright then, come on,” Mr. Stark said, “I promised your Aunt that I would make sure your midnight curfew was in place even while she was away.”

Peter nodded and tried to stand up. The only problem was that as soon as he made to stand up the pain became excruciating and he couldn’t stand upright.

“Ah!” He shouted, clutching his side, and instantly keeling over.

“Kid!” Mr. Stark shouted, rushing to his side. “Kid, come on, talk to me.”

“Tony, give him a moment,” Pepper said, also at his side, and Peter couldn’t help but feel that he was suffocating, “and some space.”

“It hurts.” Peter whimpered.

“What hurts?” Mr. Stark asked quietly, and Peter could hear the desperation in his voice as well as the fear. Was that fear that Peter was injured or that May was going to kill him for letting Peter get hurt? “Come on, Kiddo, talk to me, please?”

“Side.” Peter gasped out.

“Your side?” Mr. Stark checked.

“Yeah.” Peter pointed to the area where his other hand was holding, even though the pressure didn’t help at all.

“Come on, Kiddo, let me see.” Mr. Stark said, kneeling down by Peter to see if he could do anything to help. “Pepper, can you go call Cho, see if she can have a team ready in half an hour.”

“Of course, Sweetie,” Pepper said quickly, “hang in there, Peter, you’ll be alright.”

Peter gave her the best smile he could muster in that moment, afraid that if he tried to talk, all that would come out would be sobs. That would probably end up freaking Mr. Stark out more than Peter dropping to the floor in agony.

“Come on, Kiddo, let’s get you off the floor.” Mr. Stark said gently, face looking drawn with concern.

“No,” Peter panted out, a betraying cry coming along with it, “no, leave me here.”

“Kid, I can’t leave you on the floor.”

“Please.” Peter begged.

“How long has the pain been going on for?” Mr. Stark wondered.

“Dead leg wasn’t dead.” Peter groaned out. “Was sick.”

“Kid, that was three hours ago,” Mr. Stark said in shock, “we started and finished a whole new movie after that.”

“Oh.” Peter mumbled. He hadn’t even noticed. He had been too consumed by the stabbing pain that was trying to rip him apart from the inside out.

“Oh?” Mr. Stark asked with a bark of anxious laughter. “Kid, you need to tell me when you’re sore.”

“Mhm, ‘m sore now.” Peter said.

“Alright, I’ll lecture you when you feel better,” Mr. Stark decided, “can I at least help you get on the couch?”

“No.” Peter said. “Might puke.”

“Kid, do you think I care if you puke on my couch?”

“Might puke on you.”

“I don’t care, I only care about trying to get you more comfortable.” Mr. Stark said.

“I’ll be more comfortable if you don’t make me move,” Peter admitted, “just leave me on the ground please.”

“Alright, alright,” Mr. Stark said comfortingly, running a hand through Peter’s sweat soaked hair, “I can’t believe you were in so much pain and I didn’t realise, I’m so sorry Kiddo.”

“It’s not your fault,” Peter insisted, “I didn’t want you to notice.”

“Why not?” Mr. Stark asked as though he couldn’t imagine any situation that Peter would want to keep hidden.

“I thought that the food had given me food poisoning at first,” Peter admitted, “and it was from your favourite restaurant so I didn’t want you to think that you couldn’t order from there anymore.”

“Oh, Kid,” Mr. Stark muttered, “even if this _were_ food poisoning I would still want to know. It wouldn’t be your fault in the slightest and I would rather stop going to a place that gave you bad food than have you feel forced to hold back how you’re feeling.”

“Wait, ‘if this was food poisoning’?” Peter asked, quoting his mentor, he had assumed that it wasn’t as simple as food poisoning, but it felt like Mr. Stark had an idea as to what it might be.

“Kiddo, it’s in your lower right abdomen, you have nausea, can’t stand up straight, does that ring any bells?” Mr. Stark asked with a raised eyebrow.

It did.

“Oh no,” Peter moaned, “my appendix?”

“Got it in one.” Mr. Stark said brightly.

“May is gonna kill us.” Peter muttered.

“She can’t, she didn’t explicitly say that you’re not allowed to have appendicitis.” Mr. Stark said. “Trust me, I memorised the list.”

“She did say no slicing and I’m pretty sure surgery falls under slicing.” Peter said.

“ _Fuck.”_

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.” Pepper said as she walked back into the room, looking wide awake. If Peter hadn’t seen her napping earlier, he wouldn’t have thought she had been on her way to bed when he had collapsed to the ground, clutching his side. “Cho wants us to meet her in the Med Bay, her and the team are en route.”

“I have to move?” Peter asked in horror.

“Yeah Kiddo, that involves moving.” Mr. Stark confirmed sympathetically.

“Can’t she do the surgery here?” Peter asked. “I promise not to be upset if I end up with an infection.”

“Nice try.” Mr. Stark said.

“Tony.” Pepper said meaningfully.

“I know,” Mr. Stark said, before shooting Peter an apologetic look, “alright, I’m going to have to lift you up, Kid, and I’ll carry you to the Med Bay. We’ll get you some of the good painkillers once we’re there too.”

“This is gonna hurt though.” Peter groaned.

“Yeah, probably,” Mr. Stark said.

“Really Tony?”

“Best to be honest with the kid.” Mr. Stark said with a shrug. “Right, Underoos, let go of your side and pop that arm around my neck.”

Peter did as he was told with a whine of pain and a fresh sob.

Mr. Stark gently took a hold of him under his knees and back and lifted. Peter was glad that he had been told to hold on as if stopped him from flailing at the sudden intense rush of pain that coursed through him and made him _scream._

“-the, c’mon Kiddo, breathe.” Mr. Stark was murmuring quietly in his ear.

Peter tried to do as he was told and sucked in some air through he teeth, his entire body trembling – possibly from the pain, possibly from his crying.

“I can’t,” Peter whimpered, “I can’t do it.”

“You can, Kid, you have to.” Mr. Stark said gently as he walked.

The movement was obviously smoother than Mr. Stark’s normal walk as he made an effort to ensure Peter was jostled as little as possible, but it was still too much, it was still more than he could handle and he just wished that he could black out and wake up having been through the surgery. It would have been nice to miss all the pain and fear and just wake up knowing that he was on the recovering home straight.

“Almost there,” Mr. Stark said quietly as they entered the elevator.

Peter remembered his first trip to Stark Tower when he had thought about how extra it was to have an elevator in your own home. He took that back now, he didn’t think he could have survived being carried up a single step, the thought of it was almost enough to make a new wave of sobs appear.

_“Dr Cho has entered the building; she says to give him one of Captain Roger’s painkillers.”_ F.R.I.D.A.Y. said. _“Just one though, she doesn’t want to overwhelm his metabolism and he is quite small.”_

If Peter hadn’t been trying so hard not to vomit all over Mr. Stark with the pain, he may have been offended at the small comment.

“Pep, could you?” Mr. Stark asked.

“Of course.”

“Right, Kiddo, let’s get you on one of these trolleys,” Mr. Stark said, “and then we’ll have a drink and a pill for you. Before you know it, you’ll be off to sleep.”

“Mr. Stark, what if… what if I die?” Peter asked fearfully.

“Oh, kid, you won’t die.” Mr. Stark said. “You stick around like a bad smell, there’s no getting rid of you.”

Despite the joke, Peter did find that reassuring.

“I’m sorry.” Peter said quietly.

“What? Why?”

“I know this wasn’t how you planned for the weekend to go.” Peter said regretfully.

“Are you seriously apologising to me for your appendix?” Mr. Stark asked him seriously.

“Uh, maybe?”

“This isn’t your fault, it would never be your fault, none of this can be blamed on you,” Mr. Stark said, “do you understand that? Please tell me you understand that.”

“Yeah, sure,” Peter mumbled, unconvincingly.

“Alright, I’ll convince you of that later, here’s Pep with a painkiller for you.”

With a sharp cry of agony, Peter was assisted into a half sitting position, or rather he was leaning against Mr. Stark so that the other man could help support him when he couldn’t hold himself up.

“Ok, Peter, here you go,” Pepper said gently, “it’s just one capsule, alright?”

Peter choked slightly as he swallowed it down, “can I have more water?” he hadn’t realised how dry his throat was.

“Sorry, Bud, but you’re about to have a general anaesthetic, no more water until after.” Mr. Stark said.

Well, that sucked.

Thankfully, Mr. Stark was saved from Peter’s pleading as Dr. Cho appeared in the room.

“Hello, Peter,” she said with a smile, “I’d hoped not to see you again in here, but thankfully this is mild compared to everything else you’ve done.”

“This is mild?” Peter choked out.

“Very.”

“Huh, look at me, being normal for once.” Peter said with a grin.

“Nuh uh,” Mr. Stark said shaking his head, “you were in pain for over three hours without telling anyone.”

“Oh, Peter, really?” Dr. Cho asked, looking disappointed.

“Stop attacking me, my body is already doing a good enough job of that.” Peter groaned.

“Alright, alright,” Mr. Stark said holding up his hands.

“Right,” Dr. Cho said, “the team is prepping the emergency theatre and we’re almost ready to go.”

It all suddenly felt very real, hearing her mention emergency theatres and having the team ready. He was supposed to have a relaxing weekend with Mr. Stark, creating amazing things in the lab and workshop, changing the world, and growing closer and closer to his mentor. It was meant to be _fun._ He was not meant to be lying on a trolley in pain and feeling slightly hazy from that pill – which had started to work fast – as he got ready to be cut open.

“Hey, Kid, look at me,” Mr. Stark said, pulling Peter back into reality, “I’m going to be waiting on the other side for you, ok?”

“Yeah?” Peter asked, feeling incredibly young.

“Yeah. You’re going to be asleep in a few minutes, and it’s going to feel like a few seconds to you before you wake up and I’ll see you again.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.” Mr. Stark said.

“Alright.” Peter said, and he fully trusted Mr. Stark.

It happened that Mr. Stark was completely right, Peter was wheeled through to the theatre, where he felt a fear he’d never felt before as he was surrounded by a bunch of strangers – and Cho – and calmly told that he was going to be given the anaesthetic.

He didn’t really remember that part very well, the next thing he actually remembered was waking up.

The room was dark and unfamiliar. A spike of fear caused Peter to become more alert in an instant as he wondered where he was, of course as he looked around his eyes landed on a figure who had probably been sitting properly on the chair by the bed, but ended up hunched over on the bed Peter was lying on.

Mr. Stark.

Of course he wouldn’t have broken his promise.

“Kid?” Mr. Stark asked, his voice slurred with sleep.

“Yeah?”

“Y’u’re ‘wake.”

“Yeah.”

Mr. Stark sat up and rubbed a hand across his face to wake himself up.

“How’re you feeling?”

“A little achy,” Peter admitted, “but better than before.”

“That’s good, you had me real worried before Kiddo, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so sore before.” Mr. Stark admitted.

“Everyone talks about appendicitis as though it’s a super common thing that heaps of people go through, but no one mentions how much it actually sucks.” Peter said. “I never expected it to be that painful.”

“At least it’s gone now,” Mr. Stark said, “you’ll never have to have another appendicectomy in your lifetime.”

“That’s a relief.” Peter said with a gentle laugh that filled the dark room. “Hey, Mr. Stark?”

“Mm?”

“Where are we?”

“Oh, this was meant to be a surprise for you after the movies, but a lot happened,” Mr. Stark said, “F.R.I. can you turn the lights on dim please?”

F.R.I.D.A.Y. did as he asked, and Peter blinked against the brightness that filled the room.

It was a dark blue room, decorated with posters from all of Peter’s favourite movies, TV shows and even a few of Spider-Man. The shelves were lined with trinkets that appeared like they would appeal to him and a computer sat in the corner on a desk that was covered in tiny geeky figurines.

“Woah, this is so cool.” Peter mumbled.

“I’m glad you think so, because it’s yours.” Mr. Stark said.

“Mine?” Peter asked.

“Yeah, Kid, do you really think I’d have you stay so often and not give you your own room?” 

“I- wow, this is awesome,” Peter said, his gaze landing on a photo frame on one of the bedside tables that had him and Mr. Stark in it, both sporting huge grins. “I love it, but… how am I here?”

“I don’t follow?”

“Did Dr. Cho let you bring me here to wake up? Or did you kidnap me from the Med Bay?” Peter asked with a grin.

“Kid, look at your tummy.” Mr. Stark said.

Peter did as he was told and pulled up his pyjama shirt – which had Iron Man on, he was going to tease Mr. Stark for that at some point – the area where he had expected to have a wound or a dressing was surprisingly blank.

“Oh, no, not there,” Mr. Stark said, “the surgery is keyhole now.”

“Oh,” Peter looked at where there should have been wounds from the keyhole surgery and was surprised to find small, pink puckered lines, “what?”

“Yeah, we were surprised too.” Mr. Stark said.

“It’s healed?”

“Not completely, but it definitely looks about two weeks old.” Mr. Stark said.

“Not much point staying in the Med Bay then.” Peter said.

“I’m glad you’re alright Kiddo.” Mr. Stark said quietly.

“Me too.” Peter said. “Thank you, Mr. Stark. For looking after me and reassuring me.”

“Always, Pete.”

“And for the room, I genuinely love it, thank you.”

“It’s about time,” Mr. Stark said, “I can’t believe it took me so long to give my kid a room.”

**Author's Note:**

> :D 
> 
> come find me on tumblr @ephemeralstark! and check out some of my other fics if you liked this one!! thank you my lovelies! xxx


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